


Each Other, One Another

by pterodactyldrops



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorks in Love, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactyldrops/pseuds/pterodactyldrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s wrong with my face?” Cullen growls playfully.</p><p>“You should’ve seen it. It was—oh.” </p><p> </p><p>Prompt: Mid-sex kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Other, One Another

Cullen likes this position best.

He sits on their bed (when did it become _theirs_?), his back leaning against the headboard. Brynn has climbed on top of him, straddled him, taken him as deep as she can. She pulls her body down hard while he thrusts up into her.

He likes this position because he gets to watch her face. Cullen decided long ago that Brynn makes the best faces. He can watch her work herself into a frenzy, twisting with every movement she makes, twitching in response to his touch. A flutter of her eyelashes when he captures one of her nipples in his mouth. A slack-jawed gasp when his cock brushes against her favorite spot deep inside of her. His name perched wordlessly on her lips.

She stares at his mouth. Brynn once told him, half delirious from battle, cheeks as pink as they are now, that she loved his mouth. It used to make him rub the back of his neck bashfully. Now, when he catches her staring, he licks his lips. He does so now and Brynn practically  _shivers_ around him.

He leans a little closer. Cullen tilts his head to the left because, after a thousand kisses, he knows that Brynn always tilts her head to the right. How many times did their noses bump clumsily, how often did their faces crash painfully, how many giggles did they share, before they learned this?

When she tilts her head, he reaches up and brushes a lock away from her face. Some of her hair has come loose from her messy braids; probably his fault. He half remembers tangling his fingers against her scalp when his mouth first crashed against hers.

Cullen closes his eyes. Sometimes he likes staring at her. Sometimes he waits until the last second before they kiss to close his eyes. But when her skin is sticking to his because the sweat they’ve built up, when she clenches around him so he knows that he is utterly surrounded, his emotions crash against him like waves. The strong pound of his heart is almost overwhelming and he thinks if he watches her any more he’s going to fall off a precipice and be unable to climb back up on his own.

Her chest presses against his. She’s closer now, so close. Hot breath against his even hotter face. He parts his lips. His back arches on its own, aching to get closer to her, aching to feel her caress her mouth against his, to feel connected inside and out.

She kisses the tip of his nose.

“What—”

Brynn giggles loudly. The room had been filled with their moans, the wet noise of their bodies coming together, but now it’s filled with her almost obnoxiously loud laughter.

He removes his hands from her hips and brings one up to hisnose. It’s wet. She kissed his nose? She  _kissed his nose_. He stares at her.

“What’s so funny,  _Inquisitor_?” He narrows his eyes at her. He tries to look cross. But a chuckle starts bubbling up in him that mirrors her own, and he can only grin foolishly.

“Your  _face_.” Her whole body shakes. She falls backwards onto her back, legs now wrapped around his hips, shoulders moving up and down with her laughter.

“What’s wrong with my face?” He growls playfully.

“You should’ve seen it. It was— _oh_.”

He uses her new position to thrust hard into her. Her mouth opens wide.

“What was that?” Cullen teases. He pulls far out and away from her.

“It was—”

He snaps his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of her again. Her sentence is swallowed by a moan that works its way through her entire body. Brynn closes her eyes, readjusts her position, almost snuggling back against the sheets of the bed. “Nevermind,” she says, small smile on her face, “I suddenly find that it doesn’t matter.”

He laughs at her and moves in her again. “That’s what I thought, Inquisitor.”


End file.
